


Carry On My Wayward Blondes - 2

by Charlie_E_Winchester



Series: Carry on My Wayward Blondes [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Supernatural, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_E_Winchester/pseuds/Charlie_E_Winchester
Summary: Being friends with Buffy Summers is not a walk in the park. But nobody said Veronica Mars was a quitter.





	Carry On My Wayward Blondes - 2

_Once I rose above the noise and confusion_

_Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion_

_I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high_

 

There was a click and a thud as the alarm was turned off and the phone slammed back down. But it didn’t matter, Buffy was awake. The song always reminded her of something she worked very hard to forget. But she would always feel like a touch of the dirt remained under her nails from the night she climbed out of her own grave.

She rolled over and buried her face into Dean’s chest, determined to close her eyes and see anything but that graveyard. He stirred beneath her, and within moments was running a hand calmly over her hair.

“I’m sorry Buffy, I forgot to change the alarm.”

“ ‘s alright,” she mumbled. “It’s not like we were planning to run into each other like this.”

She wasn’t lying. They had not known the other was working the vampires’ nest in town. They had not expected to be sitting at the same bar together last night. And they had certainly not planned to wake up next to each other.

“You flashed back to that moment, didn’t you?” She nodded into his chest, and Dean raised her hands to his mouth. “Take all the time you need. You know I know how hard it can be.” He blew out a deep breath, stroking her hair. “There are still some days where I can’t close my eyes.”  

She nodded against his chest again and breathing in his scent, his warmth grounding her in the moment. It had been a surprise to her, those years ago, when all it had taken was two bottles of good whiskey for the two of them to compare the real battle scars. Sure, they’d compared war wounds before, loudly showing the bright streaks of white scar tissue to anyone who would care to see them. But to confide in someone that you remember what it was like to wake up from being dead. That was something Buffy had never imagined anyone else would understand.  

But Dean Winchester wanted to hear. Wanted to share with someone else. Wanted to be open with another person who had lived through the same terror. And though they would never be in the same place together for very long, they had found a sense of comfort whenever they happened upon each other.

*

“Bills, bills, junk mail…” Veronica trailed off as she flipped through the Mars Investigation mail waiting on Mac’s desk. 

“Ooo, Instyle, gimme,” Mac crooned, snatching the magazine from the pile. Veronica raised an eyebrow and Mac shrugged. “It takes effort to stay this geek chic. You have to keep an eye on the trends.”

Veronica chuckled and flipped to the final piece of mail. It felt like an ancient envelope, heavy and yellow. And a strange symbol was stamped on the back. She held it up to Mac, who immediately formed her own curious look and turned to type quickly on her system.

“Men of Letters,” she muttered. “Who the hell are the Men of Letters?”

“That would be Rocky and Bullwinkle,” Veronica mused. She’d torn open the letter and begun reading. “Apparently they’ve been keeping track of our progress here and Sam would like to hire us to build them a sleuthing algorithm that pings possible supernatural cases from online posts and news articles.”

“So they want to hire _me_.” Mac grinned smugly and held her hand out for the letter.

“Basically. I’ll leave this in your very capable hands. Let’s have them pay Mars Investigations though, and we can pay it out to you as a dividend to save on taxes.”

Mac chuckled as she turned back to her computer. “I think you overlook how likely it is these guys run a ‘cash only’ business, partner.”

*

Veronica couldn’t help but mull the thought over as she sat on stakeout, a fresh cup of coffee poured from her thermos. How did Sam and Dean manage to stay flush through all of these years? Buffy had regaled her with some stories of how she’d played along with Dean’s pool hustling. But hustling pool was chump change. And Buffy wasn’t that good of a liar.

She supposed it was possible - plenty of grifter cases crossed her desk every year - but how many grifters did it as a side-hustle to monster hunting?

Monster hunting. Ah yes, the wild underbelly of the world Sam and Dean had introduced to her. She’d been happy to stay out of it since the last time the Winchesters rolled through Neptune. She and Mac lived that life vicariously through Buffy’s sporadic updates - a vampire here, a werewolf there - and that was enough for them. Neptune’s underbelly was bad enough without adding shapeshifting to the mix.

Another half hour of stakeout and she was exhausted. The cheating husband had closed his motel blinds and was likely in for the night at this point. Veronica began to pack away her zoom lens when her phone vibrated with an incoming text message.

_SoS - Need your help. Someone has apparently stolen my identity. They even RSVP’d to my high school reunion!? Would appreciate my super-sleuth to help me catch them - B_

“Oh Buffy,” Veronica muttered. “Why do you have to be like all my other friends. Why can’t anyone just have a normal problem.”

*

“No.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.”

Veronica shook her head and pounded back her shot, gesturing to the bartender for another. She always wound up at a bar with this woman. “I am not going to your high school reunion with you.”

Buffy’s hair bounced as she laughed. “Don’t be like that V. Reunions aren’t that bad.”

Veronica chuffed and passed the shots along the bar. Buffy’s hand went to grasp the glass, only to have it pulled from her grip by strong calloused hands. While Buffy scowled, Dean reached over and took Veronica’s shot as well.

“I was going to drink that Men in Black.”

He grinned devilishly at her and placed a wad of bills on the bar. “How about I just buy us the bottle to make it up to you?”

Veronica threw a glance across Dean’s body to Buffy. “I thought it was _your_ identity that was stolen.”

Buffy shrugged. “He was with me when I found out. He offered to tag along.”

Dean grinned at Veronica again, his impish sparkle never wavering. “Yeah, and my brother wanted me to come talk to you about how his new baby is taking shape.”

Veronica snatched the bottle proffered by the bartender and poured herself a long drink. “Wrong Mars Investigator. He’s welcome to call Mac and nerd out all he likes.”

“Throw Willow in there and it’ll probably be the most exciting thing he’s ever done with two women,” Dean muttered.

“Don’t think I can say the same about Willow,” Buffy chortled, jumping from her seat and floating across the bar to an empty booth.

“I’m still not going to your reunion with you,” Veronica pointed down Buffy, the neck of the liquor bottle now clutched tightly in her hand. “I can super sleuth from the hotel room.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and looked to Dean, who threw up his hands in defence. “Hey, I’m the muscle here. Mr. Beat-Up-The-Thief. I have no input on this reunion plan - I was never in one place long enough to justify being on their alumni list in the first place.”

“Well, I have. And they suck.”

Buffy thrust her empty glass to Veronica, gesturing for a refill. “Oh come on, what’s the worst thing that happened.”

“I soaked thousands of dollars in audio visual equipment in water to stop a bar brawl and punched my high school bully in the face.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled. “Now that sounds like the kind of party I can get behind.”

*

Veronica pulled the bottle of aspirin from her bag and took another large swallow of gatorade. She knew what she was getting into, getting involved with Buffy. She was determined to not be too hungover to function, _again,_ while Buffy and her damn superhuman metabolism bounced around like a puppy.

And while Buffy and Dean took their sweet time getting out of bed in the morning, Veronica had work to do.

Buffy’s identity had been stolen in the most peculiar way. Someone had managed to open a new credit card under her name - not impossible to do - but instead of making big ticket purchases as most identity thieves would do, the perpetrator had bought nothing but coffee, groceries, and uber trips. 

Until, that is, they purchased tickets to Buffy’s high school reunion. Prompting the organizers to flag her participation to other Sunnydale alumni, and word had eventually travelled down the grapevine to Buffy, who was more surprised than anyone else that she was reportedly attending this reunion.

“So, who are you?” Veronica mused. She had drained the shockingly blue drink and now nursed a cup of terrible hotel coffee. But it would do. Her laptop was running one of Mac’s algorithms, taking the geo-location of each charge on the fraudulent credit card and creating a map of activity. They had used it quite successfully to predict where bail hoppers would appear next.

The charges, at least, followed one predictable pattern. They increased in frequency and expenditure, and quickly. Someone was testing the card; seeing how much they could do and fly under the radar.

Or were they? Veronica glanced at the map the algorithm was producing. It spread out like a spiral. Initial purchases clustered together and then branching out slowly but surely. And suddenly, despite the still-whiskey logged brain, she understood.

*

“We are not going to that reunion tomorrow.” Veronica exclaimed, bursting into Buffy’s adjoining room. Unfortunately, the only person she was exclaiming to was a very naked Winchester.

“Morning sunshine,” he murmured, sipping carefully from a coffee. Dean was apparently unfussed by the fact that the only thing keeping him PG-13 was a flimsy hotel towel.

Veronica allowed herself only a beat to be flustered. Logan’s current profession meant he continued to maintain his body in peak physical fitness. A six-pack would not distract her. No matter how much the elder Winchester wanted to act like his body had been a gift from god.

“Nice tat,” she finally said, and placed her laptop on the console table. She turned the screen towards him. “What does this look like to you?”

Dean leaned towards the screen, studying the two sets of data. “Looks like someone’s either an idiot, or he wants to get caught.”

“But if you want to get caught, why do it all? There are easier ways of getting a fraudulent credit card flagged.”

Dean shook his head. “This isn’t some kid out for a joy ride who is subconsciously trying to get the fraud department to stop him. This is someone trying to attract a specific type of attention.”

“Did we ‘make a break in the case’?” Buffy chirped cheerfully, stepping from the bathroom. She wore Dean’s large shirt, the hem grazing her knees.

Veronica and Dean exchanged worried glances. “That’s one way to say it,” Veronica began, carefully. “But from what I’m seeing, whoever this is was trying to get your attention. They wanted you to come and find them. 

Buffy shrugged. “I’ve been around the block a few times. It wouldn’t be a Sunnydale event if at least one person wasn’t out to get me.”

“B, this isn’t someone who happened to see you across the room and remembered you’re the blonde who kicked his ass twenty years ago.” Veronica gestured to the spiral pattern on the computer screen. “This is someone who was trying to draw you in. There’s a real possibility that by going to this reunion, you’re walking right into a trap.”

Buffy stretched her arms over her head, groaning slightly. “I may not be the spring chicken I was back in high school. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to take more than some punk with a fake credit card to take down the Slayer.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll put on my ass-kicking boots then, shall I?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You will do no such thing, Dean Winchester. If you are going to be my date, you will be rolling up in style. Dress shoes or bust.”

As Dean crossed the room to kiss Buffy, Veronica shut the laptop with a snap. Leave it to these two idiots to get her dragged into a dangerous mess and then make out at the idea of it.

*

“Buffy Summers,” a voice crooned over the registration table at her. “As I live and breathe, you barely look like you’ve aged a day.”

Buffy chuckled softly, resting her hand on Dean’s chest. “Well, you know what they say, Holly. Find you a man that keeps you young.”

“Does he have a brother?” Holly’s eyelashes batted as she stared up at Dean in his sports coat and shirt, the top button left open to expose his adam’s apple and the faintest hint of his collarbone.

“Are you into nerds?” Veronica muttered, as she leaned around the crooning couple to sign herself in for the event. Her camera was slung over her neck, and she signed in under one of her photojournalist aliases.

“Holly Charleston? She’s a closet nerd herself, but don’t say you heard it from me.” Buffy winked across the table at the woman who had no doubt single-handedly organized this reunion. A life without living in the shadow of Cordelia Chase had been good for her.  

Buffy waved her thanks to Holly, taking Dean’s hand and led him and Veronica away into the convention centre. It had surprised her how receptive Dean had been to her overt acts of affection through this trip. They were not usually like this. To the outside world, they were two warriors who crossed paths in the night. And warriors did not hold hands.

But she needed to fit a persona tonight. She needed people to see her happy and turn their heads away. And until she knew who the identity thief was, this was who she was going to be. She also had to admit she took a small pleasure in how much it annoyed Veronica.

Speaking of Veronica, the independent blonde had already drifted away, raising her camera to snap photos of as many of the attendants as possible. Within minutes, she had blended so well into the crowd, it was almost as though she had never even been there in the first place.

“So this is what a reunion looks like, huh?”

Buffy turned to Dean. He had managed to find whiskey already. He held out a second glass for her, and she drank deeply. Her eyes moved away again, scanning the room. An entire table had been set up in one corner of the hall. In memoriums. She couldn’t bring herself to think of all the photos that would be there.

“I suppose it is. There’s been a few of these. I’ve never gone to one before. Willow and I always worried it would bring back too many memories.”

Dean’s hand slipped around her waist. “You don’t have to do this, you know. There are other ways of catching this guy. You could have just as easily reported the card as a fraud.”

“You know, the less attention I bring to my name, the better. No reason to put it on a fraud watch list.” Buffy shook her head. “No, I want to end this here.”

“I wouldn’t know what a good name is like.” Dean snorted, drinking deeper from his glass.

“Yeah well for a while you were considered a raging serial killer, Rocky.” Veronica appeared again at their shoulder, clicking furiously at her camera options. She thrust it in front of Buffy’s face. “Anyone in these photos look out of place?”

Dean peered over her shoulder. “A few of these guys do not look young enough to be attending this reunion.”

Veronica shrugged. “I assumed that they were either old teachers or second husbands.” She placed a pensive finger on her chin. “That’s the time you marry for money, right? The second time?”

“Wait, that one!” Buffy stabbed at the screen as Veronica flipped through the photos. “I know him.”

She whipped her phone out. “Willow? Yeah, you remember that guy that showed up a couple times, who always had that beef with Giles? A little skinny, big ass nose?” She laughed at something on the other end of the line, and Veronica and Dean stared sidelong at each other.

“Is she like this all the time?” Veronica flicked through the camera, looking for other instances of the strange man’s face.

“Buffy?” Dean drank the final dregs of his whiskey. “Only when she’s scared.”

“I figured as much. I get braggy when I’m in a bad situation.” Veronica sighed and eyed Dean’s empty glass. “You apparently drink. But Buffy. She puts on this air of invincibility. And it’s going to get her hurt if this is as serious as we think it is.”

“So what’s this guy look like?” Dean’s eyes glanced down to the photo Veronica held up to him. “Creepy,” he muttered and before Veronica could look up, he had  wandered away into the crowd.

Veronica shook her head, clicking through the photos again. The man was substantially older than the alumni attendants. And each time she got him a shot, he didn’t appear to be interacting with any of the other party-goers. A shiver ran up her spine. Dean was right; he really did look creepy.

“So Willow says his name is Ethan.” Buffy slipped her phone away again. “He’s a warlock.”

“I’m sorry, he’s a what?”

“A warlock. You know. A male witch.”

Veronica ran a hand over her forehead. “I need new friends.”

Buffy laughed, spinning towards the room again. But a second lapsed, and it was though the laugh began to catch in her throat, rumbling through her stomach but gagging her on its way out.

Veronica twisted violently at the sound, rushing to catch her friend as she collapsed to the floor. Their dresses pooled around each other in waves of colour, and Veronica pushed Buffy’s hair from her face, examining her for marks or wounds.

“Dean!” She turned her torso frantically. Buffy had begun gasping for breath. Her lips were turning blue. “DEAN!”

And through the crowd a dark suit appeared, the scowling scruff of a man, and a wave of anger with him. Behind him trailed the tall thin man. His shirt collar was clutched tightly in Dean’s hand, the grip so tight Dean’s knuckles were white.

“Talk, now,” Dean growled.

Ethan chuckled. “What is there to talk about? There’s too many Slayers in the world. I got tasked with evening the odds a little.”

“Do I look like I’m amused?”

“Oh no, you look like if you had access to a pistol, you would shoot me.” Ethan’s hands waved dramatically. “Good thing I planned this all at a place with lots of people, making it very difficult to just kill me and be done with it, isn’t it?”  

“Funny,” Dean snarled. “I was just thinking I should pull out my silver knife and find out exactly what kind of monster you’re made of.”

Veronica’s eyes widened as Buffy fainted in her arms. “Dean, Buffy said he’s a warlock. Does that mean anything to you?” 

“Sure does.” With a swift movement, Dean decked Ethan and allowed the wiry man to collapse to the floor. “Look for something small and out of place. It’s got to be a hex bag. It could be hidden in anything.” And then he was out like a tornado, flipping chairs and running hands under tables.

Another glance at Buffy, and Veronica laid her head gently the floor. If she had to hide something small at an event - a microphone or a hidden camera - she knew exactly how she would do it. Why should this be any different. She picked up the folds of her dress and dashed to the front of the venue. “Holly!” She placed her hands on the table, steadying herself. The weight of her camera pulled at her neck. She forgot she’d been wearing it. “Holly, I need to know if there were any last minute decorations added tonight. Something you didn’t order, or that someone sent in.”

Holly’s face scrunched up. “Oh you mean that awful bouquet of flowers? I put it somewhere in the back where no one could see it.”

As Veronica sprinted away again, Holly’s high voice called after her. “Is everything alright back there?”

There! God that vase was ugly. But Veronica plunged her hand into the depths of the arrangement of dark leaves and stone coloured petals. Her fingers grazed wet cloth, and she felt her heart leap in relief.

“Dean!” As soon as the bag was free from the arrangement she sent it flying through the air to him. What he would do with it, she had no idea. But she sure as shit didn’t know what to do next. This seemed like the kind of thing you kept a Winchester around for, after all.

And there it was. That Winchester swagger. He deftly caught the hex bag, bringing a lighter from his pocket and setting it aflame, his scowl lightening from fear to annoyed frustration. “Witches,” he muttered. “Always with the gross stuff.”

As the last of the bag curled into smoke, Buffy’s chest rose, and the crowd around her seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A collection of hoots and hollers rang out, and Veronica could have sworn someone shouted “Never a dull moment with you, Summers.”

Veronica shooed the onlookers away. Thankfully, no one seemed to ask any questions. She certainly didn’t have any answers. And a lie wasn’t coming to her - not a believable one at least. When the last of the crowd had dispersed, she turned back to her friend.

Buffy was leaning deeply into Dean’s chest. He continued to wave his hands next to her, and after a moment, Veronica realized he was coaching her through each slow and deep breath. Ethan still lay on the floor next to them, unconscious and with a black eye already forming.

Veronica knelt down and jerked her thumb at the warlock. “What should we do with him?”

Buffy let out a heavy breath. “I know some people who’ve been looking for him. Good witches have their own brand of justice.”

“Are you sure?” Dean stroked her hair. “My brother and I have a very creative place we could put him.”

“No,” Buffy was quiet for a few moments, staring at the man. “He said I’m not the first Slayer. They need to know who else he’s taken out.” She looked up at Dean, a softness in her eyes. “But it would make me feel better if you could throw him in a really dark hole until those people come to get him.”

“Consider it done.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “You okay?”

Veronica studied Buffy carefully. Her friend had lost even the faintest hint of swagger. Here was the Buffy that Dean talked about. The woman who had seen hell and come back. “We were almost too late, weren’t we?”

A pause. More blonde hair falling out of place, and a quick nod.

“Well,” Veronica huffed, “I think you two have a date to finish.” She looked Dean in the eyes and he inclined his head in understanding. “If Rambo here can call Rambo Junior, I can wait around with our friend here.”

Dean pulled one hand away and began presumably texting his brother, but Buffy scowled. “You have no idea what this kind of guy can do. I’m not about to leave you alone with him.”

Veronica held out her camera bag, revealing the small handgun, taser, and silver knives tucked neatly into compartments. “Oh, don’t worry. I grew up in Neptune. It takes more than a little hocus pocus to spook this girl.”


End file.
